


The Story Of The Hunter

by Elsie112



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: Florian - Freeform, Gay, M/M, Mislav - Freeform, Nilfgaard, Wildhunt, Witcher - Freeform, geralt - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-13
Updated: 2016-01-13
Packaged: 2018-05-13 18:18:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5712316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elsie112/pseuds/Elsie112
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Tragic Story of the Hunter from White Orchard, Mislav. Taken from the Witcher 3 Wildhunt Game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Story Of The Hunter

**Author's Note:**

> When I played the first area in the \Witcher 3, White Orchard, I met Mislav, a hunter who had a gay relationship with the lords son, Florian. 
> 
> When they were caught together, Florian hung himself and the estate went into disarray. 
> 
> The old estate is now used as a Nilfgaardian garrison in the events of the Witcher 3.
> 
> I decided to write the hunters story. 
> 
> All the locations I used can be visited in the game, including Florians grave and the little camp Mislav makes in his memorial (it's in the woods besides Cackler bridge)
> 
> This is my first go at fanfic, so please enjoy.

It had been different, once.

The flag of Lord Verrieres has once swayed in the breeze on top of the fort. The fire had once blazed in the hearth. Servants had scurried back and forth across the bridge, bringing newly forged weapons from Novigrad, wine from Toussaint, carts full of fruit from the orchards nearby. It had been bustling and busy. It had been a home once.

Mislav stood across the stream and looked at the ruined fort, shaking his head slowly.

In what seemed like such a short time, it was now a crumbling ruin, the bridge destroyed, the walls and structure almost completely gone, and Nilfgaardian flags fluttering in the breeze. All memories of the Verrieres family, now gone.

It used to be a magnificent structure, seamlessly woven into the cliff top among tumbling flowers and trees.

Now, you could barely make out its shape through the overgrown brush and crumbling bricks. Not to mention the 36 Nilfgaardians stationed around it. The war had changed everything. White Orchard has once been a prosperous villiage, the orchards supplied fruit to all the local cities and towns. The people had been different too. Mislav was always welcomed with a smile when he brought his catches into town. Not any more.

Mislav turned and began his slow, silent walk home.

......Years earlier......

His father had taught him to hunt, and he had been just a boy when an illness killed him in his sleep, leaving Mislav and his mother to fend for themselves. They had packed up and moved to White Orchard.

"Somewhere more affordable, warmer. We can have a garden, and watch the flowers grow in Spring!" his mother had said.

His mother had always tried to look on the bright side of life.

Within 4 years, Mislav was the best hunter in White Orchard, and despite only being a teenager, he was highly regarded by the men in the village and often asked his opinions on how to catch different game.

As he came of age, his mother eagerly tried to set him up with local villiage girls, but Mislav wasn't interested.

"Claer is lovely. Her hair is dark chestnut, like yours! Imagine the babies you would make!" she would coo excitedly.

But Mislav would never respond. He knew deep in his secret heart he would never be able to love a woman. But he would never tell anyone. He told himself that he would marry a woman the following Summer, and try to father some children, purely for his mothers sake.

Then, one day, a harsh winter came, and despite a full larder and enough meat to last them until Spring, his mother got sick.

The cold seeped into her bones and no matter how much meat broth she drank, her frame was thin and frial, her breathing laboured. She passed away one evening with Mislav holding her hand.

With his mother gone, he saw no reason to take a wife. He didn't want to hurt anyone by living a lie. It wouldn't be fair to him, or the woman he chose. As the years wore on, naturally there was gossip here and there. People thought he might be a eunuch. Others thought he had a wife in another village. Nobody asked him, and nobody pried. He was left alone, as he was a valued hunter in the community. Nobody knew his secret.

Late at night, when he was in his bed, Mislav would think about the Sawmillers son, Carsten. He had scars on his hands from his saw. He had such firm, strong hands. He would wonder if he had rippling back muscles to match his thick arms. He would wonder if he had red pubic hair to match the firey crop on his head. He would imagine himself with Carsten, and he would groan and spill his seed on the hay covered floor of his cottage. Then, when his eyes opened and he came back down to earth, he would panic and break out in a sweat, violently washing. He was a freak! Why couldn't he be NORMAL!

Then he would go back to bed, curse himself and roughly turn over, hating the thoughts in his head, hating himself. He wondered if he should see a pellar, or try the church, to rid him of these thoughts. But he was too afraid.

____

The snare made a loud "SNAP!" and Mislav silently emerged from behind the bushes. The rabbit was struggling, piteous and desperate, its leg caught tightly in the handmade contraption. Mislav quickly and silently sliced the rabbit, immediately putting it out of its misery. He wasn't a cruel man, just an honest hunter, killing what he needed to feed the guests of Lord Verrieres, never slaying too much, respecting the ways of the wood.

He had been working for Lord Verrieres for more than a year. He had been approached by one of the lords men, and asked if he would assist in catching a boar for an upcoming feast. Once he had proven himself a worthy and skilled hunter, the lord had asked him if he would consider working for him, catching rare game for feasts, and stocking the larder for winter.

The pay was good, and Mislav readily accepted. The lord was a dark haired, stocky, brutish man. Heavily built as a man should be, yet lacking some of the wit and cunning afforded to others of his stature. His lack of wits would often make him defensive, prone to rages, and he would usually throw a jug of milk at the wall when he was frustrated - but other than that, Mislav enjoyed his company, and knew him to be a good man in general. His wife had died during childbirth to his only son Florian, who spent most of his life travelling the continent. Mislav sensed the lord had a some resentment towards his son, he felt he had abandoned him and would often make cruel comments about his selfishness.

It was a spring afternoon, and Mislav was returning across the bridge with his 12 rabbits, swinging on his pelts. He waved at Dieter, who was carrying a bale of fresh hay down to the stables. Dieter tried to wave back, but struggled with the hay, almost overturning it as he tried not to drop the bale.

Mislav helped to steady him, laughing.

"Sorry Mislav, I'm all fingers and thumbs today, got me some new horses comin' in!" he said with excitement.

Mislav raised an eyebrow. "Oh? A new horse ya say? Where from?"

Dieter gabbled excitedly. "The lords son, Florian. He has just returned from his trip overseas, and he brings with him two fine stallions!"

Mislav nodded, he had heard something about that. The lords son had been travelling over the last year, and now was returning home so his father could marry him off to one of the other lords daughters.

He waved goodbye to Dieter and made his way to the kitchens.

It was there, his life would change forever.

He stood, staring. The rabbits swinging limply from his hand. The cook gave him a prod with a wooden spoon; "You deaf boy?!"

Mislav dropped the rabbits in shock. In front of him, was the most gorgeous man he had ever seen. Tall, willowy and pale, with light hair and eyes.

"This here, is Lord Florian. You should find your wits, boy." said the cook as he scooped up the rabbits from the floor and scuttled away to the pot.

"Pleased to meet ye, me lord" Mislav stammered, still not taking his eyes away.

"The pleasure is mine." Florian gave a warm smile. "You must be Mislav. My father has told me a lot about you in his letters. You are quite the skilled hunter, yes? You must make time to teach me a few things - although I fear I lack the grace to hunt!"

Mislav couldn't move. He couldnt tear his eyes away. Luckily the cook was busy with his rabbits, he hadn't noticed.

Florian cocked his head to the side, and smiled again; "Well, I must see my Father, such is my punishment. Hope the old brute is in a good mood, though I doubt it. See you again, hunter." - then he turned and left the room.

Mislav couldnt remember the walk home. He couldn't remember what he ate for his supper, couldn't remember cleaning his hunting knives or setting his morning traps. All he could think of was Florian and his fair face, his delicate features and those clear, blue eyes. He must have gotten those from his mother, Mislav thought.

And so began a a Spring filled with wonder for Mislav. He spent his mornings catching the hunt for the Verrieres dinner table, and then the afternoons with Florian, teaching him to hunt. It was the best part of Mislavs day, helping Florian to hold the bow, feeling his soft breath and the way he moved through the forest, his eyes shining in the sunlight as they crept through the wood.

Alone in his hut in the evenings, when he groaned with release, Mislav didn't feel the shame and disgust he felt before. He pictured Florian, and everything felt...right.

One afternoon, as they walked up a hill, they came to a stream. Florian stopped to wash his feet in the water and his face.

"Up there is Cackler Bridge" explained Mislav, pointing into the distance where a large wooden bridge could be seen atop the hill. "The legend is, a woman went mad from unfulfilled love. After her heart snapped, she spent all her days running up and down this bridge while laughing hysterically"

Florian stopped washing and got to his feet. "Unfulfilled love...How awful it is to love another and not be loved in return." He turned to Mislav, who was looking at him intently. Florian had a droplet of water on his eyelash. Mislav couldnt help himself, he brushed it away.

Florians lips parted and they stared at each other, both breathing heavily, unsure what to do next.

Their eyes met and Mislav said; 'You are loved. By me."

Florian gave a sigh of what sounded like relief, and suddenly, they kissed. It was Mislavs first, and at that moment, his heart might burst. Florian tasted sweet and cool from the stream.

When they broke apart, gasping with the intensity of it, they looked around, jumping apart, checking they were alone.

Mislav suddenly realised what had happened and began to stammer.. "I..Im sorry..Lord.."

Florian put a finger to his lips and smiled softly. "Do not apologise, my love. I have wanted this from the moment we met. In the kitchens, do you remember? You stared at me so intently, I thought I had spinach in my teeth!" Mislav smiled, relief spreading through him.

"Aye, I do remember." He said, "Ive never seen ought so beautiful in my whole life."

Florian began to laugh. Mislav frowed, confused. "What? Whats so funny?!"

Florian could hardly speak, he was laughing so hard. He finally stopped and spluttered "I...dispise hunting! I only do it to be close to you!"

Mislav stared openmouthed, then began to laugh too. They both stood on the bank, laughing together, until tears came out of their eyes.

"Why didn't you say anything to me about your feelings?" Florian asked.

"Same reason you didn't tell me. I was afraid you would think I was a freak." replied Mislav.

As they walked back to Mislavs hut, through the wood as the sun went down, they could hear the waterfall nearby from the bridge. Pre-war, the woods were a safe place, and they held hands in the safety of the trees, breathing the fools parsley and enjoying each others company.

"I wish we could just make a camp here, in the wood. Nobody around, just you, me and the stars" Florian said.

"We can, one day. Ill show you how to pitch a tent and we can bring two roll beds, and make a fire." Mislav replied.

"Two roll beds, for appearances only. As if we are two friends camping... though... we would only actually use one bed roll."

Florian laughed as Mislav`s cheeks turned pink.

As the trees began to thin, they broke hands and walked a few feet apart.

Once behind the locked wooden door, they embraced, kissing, hugging and touching. Mislavs hut smelled of leather and wood. It was bare, yet functional and clean, with a hearth, bed and chest in the corner. Florian looked around in wonder.

Mislav shuffled uncomfortably.

"Do not be embarrassed. Its perfect." said Florian.

"Um.. no... it aint that.. ive never done this before..with...anyone" Mislav stammered uncomfortably, avoiding Florians gaze.

Florian sat them both down on the bed. "I have done this before. Many times, in fact."

Mislav was shocked. "With another...man?!"

Florian smiled and nodded.

"I knew I did not care for women from a young age. I have had the fortune to travel, which opened my eyes to new worlds. There are places, over the sea, far, far away from here...where you can meet other men.. and... well you know."

Mislav was open mouthed. He couldnt belive it. Florian laughed softly.

"I did not love them. Not the way I feel with you. This will be new for me, too. What we have is special."

He ran his hand over Mislav`s thighs, and they began to undress.

_____

 

As Spring turned into Summer, Mislav and Florian fell even more deeply in love.

Mislav would catch the game required for the feast in the early hours of the morning, and then spend the rest of his day "hunting" with Florian, which was mainly bathing in cool streams, lying in the lush green grass, and talking. They would discuss their hopes and dreams, and then share a hot meal in the hut, before spending the evening making love, before falling sleep in each others arms in Mislavs creaky, small bed.

They were careful, of course. They often had a day or two apart from each other so Florian could be seen around the fort, and spend time with his father.

Florian, although he loved his father, felt no connection with the man; "We just don't have anything in common. He wants me to be a leader, and I'm just not made that way. I remind him of my mother too much, I think it hurts him to look at me. He blames me for her death"

One evening, they sat sharing a meal by the hearth. The were naked, laughing, enjoying a hearty stew after hours of lovemaking. Mislav had never been happier in his whole life.

He noticed that suddenly Florian looked downcast. "Whats up my love?" He said.

Florian put down his spoon and sighed. "Im so happy here with you. But..its my father. He is becoming more and more persistant in his hunt for a wife for me."

Mislav froze, his heart stopped in his chest for a second -"And you...want this?"

Florian looked annoyed; "You know I do not want this! I am at a loss what to do. My father has arranged a meeting with 3 lordling daughters and the thought makes me sick. Mislav, what am I to do? I cannot live a lie... but my father will never accept me any other way.." He bit his lip to stop from breaking down and looked away into the fire.

Mislav touched his cheek and said "I don't much. But I know we are meant to be together. We love each other, don't we?"

Florian turned to him and smiled, a solitary tear fell. "Of course we do. But, I fear we must leave here. We cannot live a true life together, not in White Orchard."

Mislav nodded.

"I am a hunter, I can find work & food anywhere. I will go with you Florian."

As the weeks wore on, they prepared themselves. Mislav began buying supplies from the Inn. Slowly, so not to arouse suspicion from the innkeeper, Elsa. She was a kindly woman but had a knack for gossip, and she could turn on you when she was full of gin. Mislav didn't need her questioning him.

As he left one evening, his bag full of supplies on the walk back to his cottage, he bumped into Claer, a local girl whom his mother had tried to set him up with 2 years before.

"Evening Mislav!" she chirped. Mislav didn't trust Claer. She was nice enough, true, but she often had too much to say for herself for a woman. She was bossy and could also be stubborn.

"Evenin Claer." he smiled politely. "How are those snares working for your mother?"

"Good thanks" she tossed her dark hair back off her shoulders. "I'm getting married next spring!"

"Congratualtions."

"His name is Volker. Dunno if you know him. He and his brothers moved here a few months back. You would know him better if you came to see us more! Why don't you move into the villiage, it cant be easy walking back and forth all this way? You must get terribly lonely" she probed.

"I like the quiet. Plus, its closer to the forest" he said, politely trying to move away.

"Its not too late you know. My mother would still let you court me, if you wanted." Claer said, licking her lips and smiling.

Mislav shook his head, his private thoughts of Florian brought a blush to his cheek. "You sre quite lovely Claer, but Ive no interest in takin a wife just now."

Claer gave a sly smile. "Well, looks like you've run out of time! Ill shall marry Volker in the Spring. I do hope you find your elusive woman soon." As she walked away, Mislav frowned..had he misheard, or did she stress the word woman?

He was to meet Florian that evening to discuss their plans. Florian would travel ahead, to find somewhere safe for them to be together. When Lord Verrieres found out, he would be furious, and Mislav would be able to console him and throw him off the scent.

"Tell him I got a servant girl pregnant in Vizima and we have run away together." said Florian as they made their way across the courtyard and down the stone steps to the stables.

"Doubt he will believe that!" Mislav said, "Better it be someone local, from White Orchard."

"What?! He will burn the entire villiage to the ground searching for her and her family? No, better be somewhere larger, like Vizima, or Novigrad."

The smell of fresh bread and garlic filled the evening air and the servants were lighting the torches for the evening meal. They walked through the huge stone arches, the sound of the lake lapping the shore.

As they reached the stables, they looked around, but it was deserted. Everyone was in the hall for dinner. Mislav pulled the beam across the door to secure it, and stroked the snuffling horses in their boxes.

"Which one will you take?" He asked Florian.

"The swiftest, the black one, over there. Shes a beauty. I daresay Dieter will miss her."

Mislav turned from the horse and made his way to Florian, his eyes brimming. "Stay safe love. I know its only a few weeks but I will miss you."

They embraced, then kissed. Their kiss became more passionate, hungry, and urgent.

"We.. cant.." whispered Mislav... "not here...someone might..." but he was interrupted by Florians swift removal of his breeches, his mouth on him, warm, soft and inviting. He closed his eyes. It would be weeks before he got to do this again.

He leaned his head back on the wall, pushing his hips foreward, arching his back, biting his lip to stop from crying out. But then Florian stopped.

Mislav's eyes flew open... and he was surprised to see Florian, naked now, arching his back on the hay.

Mislav groaned and pushed himself foreward, the warmth from Florians eager mouth acting as a lubricant, he pushed deep inside and felt the familiar warmth, of which he had become so accustomed. They had done this so many times now, they knew the intimate rhythms required to maximise their pleasure, the low, slow strokes, the way they liked to be touched.

They were sweating now, grunting, trying not to make any noise as they reached the peak of their climax...then, they heard a door bang.

Mislav spun round, to see Dieter, standing open mouthed in horror. He had used a stick to push the bar up from the stable door from the outside...and had dropped his lantern to the floor in utter shock.

Mislav pulled away from Florian, so hard he stumbled backward into the wall, knocking over several rakes and tools so they clattered to the floor. He tried to stammer...but Dieter was already backing out of the door.

"The..horses sometimes..close the door...by mistake..I..." He turned and ran.

Mislav looked at Florian, who was pulling on his clothes. Mislav pulled up his own breeches, the feeling of utter terror seeping into his bones as the magnitude of what they had done began to sink in.

"Florian...I.."

"Hush!" Florian snapped, his eyes scanning the floor for his missing boot - "and pray we can bribe Dieter before he reaches my father. Go to your home, await me there. Do not leave until I come for you." - he stalked out, before Mislav could say anything.

Mislav stood among the fallen rakes, shaking.

_____

Mislav sat in the hut waiting for news, but none came. He stood waiting, staring at the window, biting his lip until it began to bleed.

Day turned into night, then into day again. Still no word from anyone. When the sun fell on the third day, the night was cold, and Mislav wore only a thin shirt, but he didn't care. He couldnt feel anything. He was numb. The thoughts whirled round in his head making him sick.

We love each other. Surely that counts for something. How could something that feels so right, be wrong? But it is wrong. 

I don't know if Lord Verrieres will forgive this. I dont care. I just need Florian to be OK... Would Dieter keep quiet? Surely not. He had a wife, a child on the way. He would want the coin from the Lord in exchange for his silence. He would never understand our love. 

He considered his options. He had been waiting 3 days now. He was going to go insane with worry if he didn't get confirmation that Florian was OK. He would head to the Inn the next morning for news.

At dawn, he awoke to find a crumpled letter had been pushed under his doorframe in the night. He fell to the ground and opened it with shaking hands....

"My love,

I write this to you with a heavy heart. I am sorry it has taken so long for me to send this letter, however I had yet to find someone I can trust to deliver it. 

I am unable to leave my quarters. My father locks me in here, and despite much effort, I cannot leave. He managed to pay Dieter to keep his silence about me. Although about you, I do not know. I hope you are keeping well, and that Dieter does not let you down. The short time we had together was the most wonderful time of my life. Know that I will always love you. But we cannot be together. What we had.. it is not how things are supposed to be. My father says we are freaks of nature, Mislav. When we had each other, I could bear it ...but no longer...

My love, I am due to marry. My father has arranged for me to be wed to some woman in Nilfgaard over the coming weeks. He is sending me to live there, far away from here, from you... from everyone. My heart cannot bear it. I will not go through with it, this I swear to you. I considered marrying her, then running away to you, but I cannot bring any more shame to my Father, or myself.

I have never felt so low, and so alone. I fear it would be better for everyone if I was dead. 

This is goodbye. Live your life well, and remember me fondly. 

Your Florian

"NO! PLEASE!" Mislav was shouting, sweat pouring from his body, he was shaking.

He had cut his knee on the ground in his haste to read the letter and blood soaked through his breeches, but he didn't even notice. His tears fell onto the floor. This floor where he had lain with Florian so many times. The fire they sat sat beside, stroking each other's skin and laughing softly. Mislav felt his heart break.

There was nothing to be done, of course. If he attempted to go to the fort, Lord Verrieres would have him killed instantly.

It was a miracle he wasn't already dead. He was suprised even Dieter wasn't killed outright. He suspected it was only through Florians begging that they still lived. But what was a life without his love? He hoped that Florian would reconsider and go to Nilfgaard. Prehaps he could visit him there and persuade him to leave? But he knew it was hopeless.

He curled up by the fire, and cried himself to sleep.

He stayed in his hut for almost 2 weeks. He had enough dried meat, broth and firewood to last him.

One evening, he heard a soft knocking at the door. He jumped and grabbed his hunting knife, hiding it down his breeches just in case.

It was Dieter. He quickly pushed his way in and closed the door behind him.

"I'm not here for no trouble" he said. "I've come to tell you about Lord Florian."

Mislav waited, his heart hammering, knowing what was to come.

"I'm sorry, Mislav. He was killed in a hunting accident."

Mislav slumped to the ground, staring at nothing. He almost laughed at the ridiculousness of it all. Hunting?

He thought back to what Florian had said at Cackler bridge and a lone tear fell.

Dieter shuffled on his feet, feeling increasingly awkward.

Mislav spoke in barely a whisper. "How did he really die?"

Dieter looked startled. "What do you...?... How did you know?"

"Please, Dieter."

Dieters eyebrows furrowed as if he would argue, but then he sighed.

"I'll tell you, but Lord Verrires doesn't want this getting out, dya hear me? You've caused that man enough pain."

Mislav nodded, still feeling numb.

"He hung himself. A week past. He tied his bedsheet into a noose and jumped outta the window. If he hadn't broken his neck, the fall alone would have killed him. Didn't even leave a note. Lord Verrieres is distraught. Hasn't stopped drinking since it happened."

Dieter continued to ramble nervously.

"He doesn't know I'm here. I'm telling you because I felt I owed it to you. But that's all. Your not welcome at the burial ceremony and I'm sure you already know, you must never set foot near the fort. The people will think the boy died in a hunting accident, and they won't know about any of this sordid business. Do you understand? Lord Verrieres will kill you if he lays eyes on you again. I suggest you move far away. Nobody from White Orchard wants you near the kiddies or the men... in case you taint em'...I suggest you don't go anywhere near there..."

As Dieter spoke, Mislav continued to stare at the floor, numb, barely listening.

His Florian, was really gone. He had really done it.

\-----

He didn't get to attend the burial. He didn't want to. He had his own private ceremony in the woods.

He made the camp near Cackler bridge they had talked about all that time ago. He took two bedrolls, smiling to himself. They would have brought two, and used one. He made a fire. He sat beside it and talked to Florian, as if he was there.

He wept softly, and he considered throwing himself from Cackler bridge, but he knew he couldn't.

As the weeks turned into months, he would gather fresh flowers for Florians grave each week. He would visit in the dead of night when he knew he would be alone. He wondered if he would ever smile again.

He considered moving from White Orchard, many times. But he needed the memories. He liked to visit places they had been together in the forests. He could almost hear Florian`s laughter in the breeze. He heard stories over the coming months that Lord Verrieres was drinking too much, becoming unstable and increasingly cruel to the people. His estate were falling into disarray & there was talk of a revolt. Mislav kept to himself, waiting for the inevitable knock at the door and a sword through his belly. But it never came.

He heard through a local herbalist that Dieter had been forced to leave the stables when Lord Verrieres pierced him through the leg with a rake during one of his rages. Mislav couldn't imagine what he had turned into. He was once a good man.

As months turned into years, the pain lessened and the people stopped talking. He tried to visit the villiage, once or twice, but he would never try that again. Seeing the faces of your friends contort in disgust wasn't worth it. He was tired of being called a freak, best he just accept it. Besides, he had enough skill to catch his own food.

And, above all else, he swore he would never, ever, love again.

As Mislav walked away from the crumbling fort, he closed his eyes and listened for Florians laughter through the trees, but he could only hear the distant snarl of wild dogs. He shuddered. The woods had become a different place now. He once tried to visit the bridge to find the campsite he had made for Florian, but the bridge was being used by the Nilfgaard army now, they had pitched their tents outside the gate and closed it.

He had even seen villagers, including Dieter, trying to hunt in the woods for food. They must be getting desperate now all the orchards had been picked clean by the various armies, and there was no trade to be done.

He could always hear the loud, inexperienced feet crunching through the leaves as they tried hopelessly to set traps in all the wrong places. He had warned them of the dangers, and even offered to help them, but they had all refused.

Yes, things had changed since the war. But Mislav would always have his memories. Every evening when he sat, smoking his pipe outside his hut, he would think of his Florian. And he would smile.

The End.


End file.
